Monday, November 24, 2014

The next book that I’m writing has my hero and heroine
meeting through speed dating. I thought
sounded like a fun way of having them meet. The problem is, I have no
experience with it. I hate to sound old, but speed dating didn’t exist when I
was single.

I’ve seen it on TV, but usually on a crime show and one of
the people usually ends up dead. Not a great plug for the activity.

So, like I do for most of my research, I went online. I
found sites where you can sign up for speed dating. Each event is held at a
different location for different groups of people, whether delineated by age,
ethnicity or whatever. The research was great, but there was only so much
information I could find out without actually registering for one of the
events. Could be problematic, considering I’m happily married—there’s only so
much “research” I’m willing to do, and dating isn’t one of them.

My next step was contacting a single friend of mine. She put
me in touch with one of her friends who had actually participated in speed
dating, so I asked her lots of questions. And her answers were great and very
helpful.

But then I went out to dinner this weekend. My husband,
daughter and I met up with a friend in New York City and we stopped at an Irish
pub for dinner. The food was great, but more importantly, they were holding a
speed-dating event at the back of the pub! The pub was next to a hotel and in
order to get to the restrooms, you had to go through this extra room where the
event was going to be held.

The first time I walked back there, there were signs on the
tables reserving them for the event, and staff putting together packets for the
participants. As we ate our dinner, we noticed people arriving. The women came
in groups of two or three; the men arrived by themselves for the most part. The
next time I walked back there, people were waiting for the event to begin. The
last time (we’re in a strange place in New York, you don’t really think I’m
going to let my daughter go to the restrooms by herself, do you? At least,
that’s my story…) I was in time to hear the hostess go over the rules for the
evening. While I waited for my daughter to finish using the restroom, I
surreptitiously recorded the hostess, so I could go back to the information later.

It was just like I’ve seen on TV, but more low-tech than I
expected. People were told to fill out their pamphlets by hand. I’m not sure; maybe
I expected a speed-dating app?

My husband and our friend actually suggested I try to
participate, but again, there’s only so much “research” I’m willing to actively
engage in, and I wouldn’t want to prevent someone from meeting their match
because they were busy speaking to me!

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

I have two girls. Two girls who are two and a half years
apart. They are very different personality-wise and there is no one who ever
mistakes one for the other. However, they own a few items that are similar.

Specifically, clothing.

Sure, their tastes are different, but they occasionally
share things. And although they’re not the same size, certain items can be
shared. And of course, let’s not forget things like socks, which can be anyone’s.

That’s why I do their laundry separately. I hate doing
laundry and like to get it done as fast as possible. The last thing I want to
do is spend time deciphering whose clothing belongs to whom.

Occasionally, however, their clothes get mixed together,
like when they borrow things, or when we come back from vacation and I throw everything
in the laundry together—yeah, laundry is not my thing.

Now, I’ve been a bit busy lately, and laundry has had to
take a back seat, but the past few days I’ve spent catching up and I finally
got all their clothes done that needed doing. I washed, dried and folded. I
even carried it up to their rooms and put it on their beds.

My kids, knowing how busy I’ve been, have been tiptoeing
around me. You can’t imagine the surprise when my youngest very carefully asked
me if I might have a chance to get to her laundry at some point, and my
immediate answer was, “Of course, I’ll do it right now.” Apparently that was
the clue that things could go back to “normal.” Because when I did their
laundry, folded it and put it on their beds, I mixed some of the pieces up. And
my youngest came downstairs and said, “Mom, some of the laundry isn’t mine.”

Here’s where I’m confused. She and my older daughter are the
only two kids in the house. The clothing was obviously not mine or my husband’s.
So anything she saw that wasn’t hers was obviously her sister’s. Yet, she came
to me with a puzzled look on her face.

Really? You can’t turn around, take two steps to your right,
knock, and give it to your sister? You have to ask me first?

Monday, November 17, 2014

I’m going to be nicer. I’m going to hold my tongue. I’m going to think before I speak.

I haven’t done that for a very long time. I don’t like much
about myself these days and that’s the reason. It’s easy getting pulled in when
people laugh. It’s easy to think people like you when really, they just think
you’re funny.

That old saying, "laughter is good for the soul"--it's wrong. Laughter is good for the ego; kindness is good for the soul. And I'm missing the kindness.

I lost a part of myself, the nice part, and I’m going to spend time finding
it again.

I’m blaming no one but
myself. It's one hundred percent my fault. So I'm taking responsibility and I'm changing. I’m going to surround myself with things that make me happy. I’m going to hang out with my friends who (hopefully still) like me for
who I am inside and try to get to that place again.

Monday, November 10, 2014

No time for a long post, but I wanted to announce that my first book, A Heart of Little Faith, was just rereleased by my current publisher (I got the rights back from my old publisher), Rebel Ink Press. It's got a beautiful new cover and received some editing help.

Blurb:

Lily Livingston is a widow raising her six-year-old daughter, Claire, in New
York City. Devastated by her husband’s death three years ago, she’s in no hurry
to fall in love again. Besides, trying to balance her career with motherhood
leaves her little time for romance.

With a
wheelchair instead of a white horse, and a vow against falling in love again as
his armor, Gideon Stone is the last person Lily expects to sweep her off her
feet. But when a business agreement forces the two of them together, that is exactly
what happens.

As they navigate the minefield that fast represents their
relationship, can either of them overcome the obstacles to find true happiness
in each other’s arms? The answer is yes, but the bumps along the way
demonstrate that neither of them can go it alone.

Monday, November 3, 2014

November is NaNoWriMo month, where you participate in a
writing challenge—30,000 words by the end of the month. Many of my writer
friends are doing it; I, however, am not. November is never a great month for
me, but this year, it’s particularly busy.

I know I made the right choice, but seeing my friends post
about it is making me wish I were a part of it. The good news is I’m dying to
write. I can’t wait until my commitment mid-month is over and I’ll have hours
and hours to write. My writing these days has been sparse, and I’m encouraged
by the desire I have to sit in front of my computer and finish the stories I’m
working on.

In addition to writing being my job, it’s also my escape.
With all the stress I’m under right now, I haven’t been able to write. That’s
okay as long as it’s temporary. I’m encouraged that I want to write, even if I
can’t sit down and actually do it. I’m planning my writing schedule, setting
goals and figuring out what I’m going to work on first.

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About Me

I'm a mom, wife, strategist, lover of snark, volunteer, shoe- and choco-holic. I write to escape the craziness of life. Sometimes I even write about that craziness! My blogs are usually a bit snarky; my books are contemporary romance. I also write freelance articles for magazines, newspapers, and edit newsletters.